


Tweek Tweak and the Goblet of Fire

by shamalongadingdong



Category: South Park
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 03:45:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13539024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shamalongadingdong/pseuds/shamalongadingdong
Summary: Tweek didn’t want to be a wizard. Nor did he put his name in the Goblet of Fire.





	Tweek Tweak and the Goblet of Fire

Tweek didn’t want to be a wizard.

 

When an owl had swooped through his living room window and presented him with a letter, he stared at the strange creature, automatically threw the envelope down, and went to the kitchen to take more of his medication. After grabbing a handful of pills and staying close to the medical cabinet for several minutes, he craned his head around the entrance way and, why yes, the owl and the letter were still there.

 

He needed to make himself more coffee. After going through the motions, he clutched his favorite mug and stared down at the black liquid, trying to act like his life wasn’t a complete disaster. He looked again, and the owl was still there, staring at Tweek with large, inhuman eyes. 

 

His parents never came home, so he slept in the kitchen, too scared to go past the  _ obviously  _ hallucinated owl. Curling up on the hard, linoleum floor, he spooned himself around several cups of coffee.

 

Yes, yes, it was  _ obviously _ not real. Sane people don’t get domesticated owls flying through their windows. Sane people aren’t greeted by birds of prey with parchments placed in their beaks, looking at you like you’re an idiot if you don't take it.

 

Did Charles Manson have an owl visit him, telling him to start a cult and start murdering people? Telling him to chop people up into pieces so that the owl could begin the apocalyptic race war?  _ Probably _ , and that’s why it could not be happening to Tweek.

 

As the window started to let in the morning sunshine, illuminating the dust particles in the air and blinding Tweek as he tried to seep into the kitchen floor, he realized what he had to do. 

 

Tweek grabbed a hockey mask from the garage and put on the Hulk hands which he had left under one of the kitchen counters, and prepared himself for battle - he marched right in the living room, preparing himself to fight the cursed owl. Instead, however, only the envelope remained.

 

He poked it with his toe. After several moments and peering around for any predatory birds, he picked up the letter. The cardstock was nice, cream-white and sturdy. In embossed letters, he read what it said:

 

Dear Mr. Tweek,

 

We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. 

 

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

 

A gulp and a set of wide eyes - he ferociously ripped up the envelope and used the stove’s burners to set fire to the letter.

 

It was a weird trick. A horrible prank. He could feel their eyes on him, watching him react to the letter and laughing at the spazzy noises that came out his mouth, the wide gape of his mouth, the hilarious way his eyebrows shot up in utter befuddlement. 

 

Once the evidence was burned and the ashes done away with, he thought it was over. The horrible illusion was over. But, as he was very well used to, the torment didn’t stop there.

 

Owls started visiting the house daily. His parents were too busy  _ not _ paying attention to their only son, so Tweek assumed they didn’t notice. They were spacey like that - their minds were always on more important things, like their coffee shop, while Tweek’s mind was somehow on everything at once. 

 

Letters kept coming in, congratulating Tweek for his acceptance.  

 

Congratulating him for  _ what _ ? He was going crazy. More crazy. More crazy than he normally was. He already hallucinated gnomes stealing his underwear, and now he was imagining owls inviting him to a school for magic.

 

He life was tragic. Sitting at the dining table, he attempted to focus on his coffee and tried to ignore the growing pile of cream-colored parchment that was splayed before him.

 

“Ahh, what a beautiful morning,” his dad, Richard, said as he strolled into the kitchen. 

Tweek kept his head down and stared at the mug in between his clasped hands. He tried to control his involuntary twitches but to no avail. 

 

“A great, beautiful, fantastic morning,” his dad smiled, “for a cup of coffee.”

 

As was customary, his dad looked at Tweek’s almost empty cup of coffee and raised his eyebrow as if to ridicule him for not drinking enough of the caffeinated beverage. He didn’t seem to notice the letters.

 

His mom walked in and kissed both Tweek and Richard on the cheeks. She sat down at the table as her husband prepared three cups for the family.

 

It was a peaceful day for the Tweak residence. 

 

Tweak jerked hard as his dad set down. He tried to ignore the stack of envelopes on the dining room table that neither of parents had seemed to notice. Even when they were right in front of their faces. How typical.

 

Tweek grabbed his new cup of coffee and chugged about half of it. 

 

“How are you, sweetie?” his mom asked.

 

Twitch. “F-fine.” He pointed his eyes away. 

 

“How’s school?” his dad asked.

 

“UUuuUunh!”

 

“Well that’s great, Tweek. I’m just so excited to some alone time with your mom this summer.”

 

Tweek stared at his coffee. Took a swig. Thought about it a little bit.

 

“Whaat?”

 

Richard took his wife’s hand in his own. “Well, Tweek, you’re almost ten years old. You’re almost an adult. Here in America, we don’t like freeloaders.” Tweek’s dad wasn’t looking at him at all; he was looking at his wife with a loving smile on his face.

 

“And do you know what we do to freeloaders?” he continued.

 

“Waagh! Uh… you… make them work?”

 

Richard turned around and grinned at his son. “Yes!”

 

Twitch. A couple of beats. It seemed like his parents thought this conversation was over. “W-what does this mean? What are you talking about?”

 

A placating smile. “Tweak, in other countries you would already have a wife and children. Hell, in most places you would have five years of work experience and you would have already worked yourself up to manager by now.” His mom smiled at Tweek, a pleasant look on both of their faces.

 

“In America, children are like  _ you _ ,” Richard lackadaisically waved his hand at his son, “while kids in these wonderful countries are using their small, flexible hands to create works of art, like cheap Nike tennis shoes with a profit margin of over two-hundred percent.  _ Two-hundred percent _ , Tweek. This family believes in those values, son.”

 

He rose out of his chair and walked to the open window over the kitchen sink. “These values,” he pumped his hand on the counter and looked out the window like he was starring in a political advertisement, “are what make America great.”

 

Tweek clutched his mug, eyes wide and his nervous system going into overdrive.

 

“And that’s why we’re sending you overseas.”

 

Tweek looked at the mass of envelopes on the table.

 

His dad walked over the table, picked up a single letter, and placed it in his son’s hand. “Outsourcing. That’s what these United States of America are all about.”

 

Tweek opened the letter again and stared at the embossed lettering.

 

His mom stood up and kissed him on his cheek. “Pack your bags, honey. We need you out in a week.”

 

XXXXX

 

Mr. Garrison was a weird man.

 

Listening to a partially bald man who was wearing a robe while he explained the architectural layout of a freaking castle was pretty bizarre. 

 

However, to be fair, Tweek’s whole life was weird. This last week, however, was exceptionally weird.

 

“Tweek, honey, it’s nothing against you,” his Mom had said, patting his back, “Business has been pretty rough recently. And we care about you,” she kissed his cheek and motioned his coffee closer.

 

He was somehow too distressed for coffee. His fingers were pure white as he clutched the parchment in a vice grip.

 

“And just because we care  _ so much _ , we’re taking advantage of the fact that, well…”

 

Richard finished her sentence, “You’re a freak of nature, Tweek.” 

 

“AAAghah!”

 

“What he means is,” his mother held him closer but he didn’t react, “you’re part British. That means, well, you have magic powers.”

 

Tweek’s brows scrunched together.

 

“How can you explain it, Tweek? How did Princess Diana fake her death? She was a  _ wizard _ . How did the government get away with replacing Paul McCartney with a doppelganger so that they could use the real body to allow John Lennon to escape to Mexico?  _ Magic _ , son.”

 

He winked at his son and clasped a hand around Tweek’s shoulder. “It just makes sense.”

 

So, Tweek was a wizard, and he didn’t particularly like it. While he was a freak at home, he was still that weird, spazzy kid at Hogwarts. 

 

As time went on, he was able to tone it down a bit, and he was able to meet a couple of friends. Tweek was sorted as a Hufflepuff, and he was glad about that. He actually had more friends at Hogwarts then back home, such as Jimmy, who was a fellow Hufflepuff that liked to make people laugh, and Clyde, another Hufflepuff who cried at everything.

 

While Tweek wasn’t a horrible social failure at Hogwarts, academically he wasn’t doing so hot. At home, we was used to building model sets and creating paper airplanes. His twitches made this somewhat difficult, but his mistakes didn’t explode, singeing off his eyebrows. 

 

That’s where he found himself. His body was still like a stone as he absorbed the pain.

 

“Oohh.. ouchh.”

 

The class was quiet. Suddenly, a voice in the back of the class snickering and then started howling.

 

“Heheh… hahahah, HAHAHA!”

 

“Boy!” the professor, Tuong Lu Kim, snapped at the boy, Eric Cartman, who was sitting in the back of the class, “Wha you laughin’ ‘bout?!” It just made the laughing boy howl harder, and the class started laughing with him, amused by how the exploding end of the wand made Tweek’s hair even crazier. 

 

Professor Kim just muttered under his breath. “Go to the nurse, Tweek.”

 

Tweek nodded numbly, trying to feel his face and get the pain under pressure. His felt hot both from the fire from his wand and the embarrassment of getting laughed at in front of his entire class.

 

Professor Kim was an older Asian man who taught East Asian mysticism. Tweek was enraptured about learning about dragons and other different types of magic, but we failed at magic using his wand. Unfortunately, that’s how most magic was done. 

 

He slowly walked out of the class and walked to the nurse. This happened weekly. 

 

When he walked into the room, the nurse looked at him with no surprise. She just raised her eyebrows like he was hopeless. 

 

“One moment,” she said.

 

Tweek slowly lowered himself down to a chair. 

 

“Did you blow yourself up again?”

 

Tweek startled, which hurt his blistered skin anymore.

 

He looked to the doorway where a tall, black-haired boy his age was standing. Tweek knew him - he was a Ravenclaw that usually took the same classes together with the Hufflepuffs. His voice was monotone but nasally. It didn’t necessarily sound bad. 

 

“Ngh!” he lowered his head in shame.

 

Craig sat down next beside him.

 

“You’re pretty bad with spells.”

 

“Arrg, well, I can’t help it.”

 

Craig looked at his with no emotion on his face.

 

“I’m too spazzy. My hands don’t want to do the proper motions.”

 

Craig was still staring at him. Tweek was starting to twitch even more.

 

“Aarrgghh! So I have some flaws. You aren’t perfect either.”

 

Craig shrugged. “Yeah, I was sent away from my morning class because I flipped the teacher off. Now I’m just hanging out while the nurses.”

 

“Jesus, man, I thought Ravenclaws were supposed to be smart.”

 

Tweek whimpered when Craig’s face turned dark. 

 

“Uhh, I mean…” Twitch. “I mean, why are you getting in trouble? W-why don’t you just don’t flip the teacher off?”

 

“Hmmm…” Craig stared off into the distance, as if pondering the question.

 

Tweek was luckily saved as the nurse motioned him over and started applying the correct ointments and spells to sooth his skin. Once he left, his skin heals but pink and very tingly feeling, Craig was gone.


End file.
